


Loki and the Centaur

by locusinbloom (Fractual_Visions)



Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Bestiality, M/M, although sort of, community: naughtylokiconfessions, except not really, well you've been warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 22:37:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1581932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fractual_Visions/pseuds/locusinbloom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is for the prompt “Loki with a sentient half-animal.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loki and the Centaur

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by an amazing [Joanna Estep illustration](http://joannaestep.tumblr.com/post/18117281929/loki-svadilfari-loki-had-such-dealings-with).
> 
> Done for the [Naughty Loki Confessions](http://naughtylokiconfessions.tumblr.com) blog of which I am a devoted follower.

The forest was Loki’s refuge when the taunts and the insults of Odin’s halls became too much to bear. He ran to the wild places inhabited by creatures both common and fantastic. He soared with the hawks, swam with the otters, and ran with the deer. He didn’t stop until his heart pounded and his breath came short. Safe in the untraceable wilderness, he would cry the tears that never fell in the walls of Asgard.

He spoke to all of the animals. He taught them and learned from them. They never mocked, never questioned. He befriended all and called each one by name, from the practically brainless worms, to the mighty centaurs whose knowledge was profound and mystical.

Of the centaurs, Loki loved Kuðr best. He was a stargazer, a worker of deep and subtle magic, and a gentle mentor. Loki had been a mere adolescent the first time Kuðr had found him crying in the forest. The mighty beast had wordlessly folded to his knees and allowed this tiny god to lie over his back and sob into his fur. It was a ritual repeated many times.

Kuðr was a magnificent blue roan, standing eighteen hands high from hoof to withers and a full three feet beyond that, with skin as black as midnight and eyes of a glowing, soulful hazel. Loki knew the day his feelings changed. For ninety years, they had been dear friends. One day, with Loki lying atop a rock, that he might be closer to Kuðr’s face, he had been recounting the foolishness of one of his tutors and Kuðr had snorted derisively in agreement. From four sets of lungs it had been the sound of thunder in the mountains. The image came unbidden of stallions mounting their mares in his father’s stable and Loki wanted, needed.

His cheeks burned and he made an excuse to leave early that day. In bed that night, the words of his peers rang through him, that he was strange and perverse. In his mind also, the softness of Kuðr’s coat, his skin gleaming in the sunlight. He touched himself and hated himself. It was humiliation both bitter and irresistible.

For a year, Loki fought with himself and denied himself. Centaurs, above all creatures, are keenly perceptive and not easily fooled. Kuðr knew Loki’s struggle, but said nothing. He loved the little prince too much to act, either to draw him close or to push him away.

The breaking point came on a clear spring day. The woods echoed with the calls of birds and the scampering of squirrels. Loki lay once again atop his favorite rock, kicking his legs in the air as Kuðr regaled him with a tale of the time centaurs battled with mermaids for who would have the land and who would gain the sea.

"At least, that is how my grandmother told me the story." Kuðr threw his head back and laughed.

Loki stared at him and could not breathe. The words were out before he knew what he was saying. “Kuðr. Please touch me.”

A massive hand settled on his chest, thumb rubbing circles in his collarbone. Kuðr, in his deep rumbling voice, spoke slowly, “I have waited and hoped very long for this moment, Loki. Centaurs are ever faithful, you know this. We love just once. For many years, I believed my doom was to watch my love, but never possess him.”

This revelation drove out the last of Loki’s resistance. By kneeling on the rock, he could reach Kuðr’s shoulders and drew him into a kiss. It was wet and open-mouthed, licking each other’s tongues like the devouring of a frozen treat. Loki panted, flush with the wantonness of being given something long denied, long desired.

Kuðr placed his palm on Loki’s crotch and rubbed in slow deliberate circles. Loki keened and grabbed Kuðr’s hand to rut against it, green eyes seeking out hazel to beg reassurance—this was okay, this was permitted.

Loki could feel Kuðr’s voice as a vibration in his chest. “I wish to mate with you,” he said, “but I cannot do so while you are in this form.”

"I will— let me—" Loki broke free and scrambled from the rock.

He called to the magic inside of him, asking it to cloak him in the form he desired. The result was a centaur maiden, a midnight black Friesian, feathered and delicate as a lily. The feeling of having six limbs was exceedingly strange, but no more so than having none like an eel.

Kuðr mounted up on him immediately and began seeking entrance.

"Watch your hooves," Loki complained, but it was half-hearted at best.

Kuðr wrapped strong arms around his torso, lapping and sucking at his neck, babbling words into his ear both sweet and profane. In this guise, Loki was nearly the size of Kuðr, yet he still felt small and sheltered. Planting his hooves against the force of Kuðr’s thrusts, Loki tossed his head back and sighed with as blissful a joy as he had ever felt.

When he lay in bed that night, it was with the sweet smile of one newly in love with the world. Now he was entirely the depraved creature Thor’s cruel friends believed him to be and—he laughed into his pillow—for once he did not care at all.


End file.
